[Exit Anselm.
Faus. “Only the pious heart, turned heavenwards
From very love of heaven!” Fit formula
To typify the fierce, embittered cynic,
Who, in heart-misery, sought refuge here,
As a poor, worried, over-hunted fox,
Cursing his persecutors, runs to earth
To lick his bleeding flanks in sulky peace,
And brood, in solitude, on men and dogs!
No hope! no hope! no hope! For life entombed—